passion

He could feel her hands on his arms, pulling him closer to her.They were two very different people aimlessly wandering about in the back streets of Bari Gottic in Barcelona. Going in and out of mazes of cobblestoned streets filled with people, the smell of tapas bars, of smoked ham and sangria, and coronita. In this weird concoction of smells and sights, the only smell he could recognise was the Nina Ricci she was wearing, the only sight he could see was the sad smile on her lips.



He didn’t know how she was feeling. As usual, she was being secretive.



He was blabbering like a fool, talking about things which did not matter.



He saw her peering into a shop, which made really exquisite knick-knacks, some where the usual machine produced Gaudi impersonated touristy souvenirs. Some were genuine creations. And she liked something. He liked the way her eyes suddenly brightened up , and then she smiled. A beautiful smile. It was as though She forgot everything at that moment, only the thing that she likes is on her mind, making her happy, making her want it.He is amazed to see the quick change in her face.The varied emotions in a flick of a minute.



She knows she can’t take it back. A slight disappointment, but she enjoyed having it in her hands for three seconds. To have felt it, she would carry the feeling with her all her life. He saw her slowly moving back her hair, behind her ears and looking at a small scale wireframe version of a motorcycle. He saw her eyes searching through the knick-knacks. Taking each of them slowly, as if registering all these things in her memories.



Sometimes He wonders why does he like her so much?He has no answers.



As they stroll on, she comes and holds his hand. She grasps it rather and they start to aimlessly walk again. He sees a small alleyway and leads her into it. She is still trying to make sure he is all right. He throws down the bag and grabs her by the shoulders and pushes her against a wall. She has no resistance. She looks into his eyes, what does he see? He doesn’t know. He get confused. He can’t understand her eyes. He can’t understand what she wants him to tell. He looks at her, she looks afraid, she looks sad. Her eyes are pleading, but for what? Pleading for what?He looks at her. He wants to hold her, smell her, he wants to make her his, he wants her to belong to him, he wants her to lovehim with abandon.

The same selfish old him and the things that he wanted.



And there she was standing, trying to comfort him, trying to be his support, again and again, trying to do everything herself. Trying to be strong.



It’s all in the mind she says. True, everything is in the mind. Make it like the sea, unwavering and unending. He looks at her; he can only look at her. He realizes so many things at the same time.



She hugs him, and they are two people stuck in time forever. Barcelona flows around them, colours and music, moving in an unhurried pace, just like waves lapping the seashore. Reality is a bit further away from them. Just like the hustle and bustle of the city. They break their embrace and start walking towards the main road. Suddenly she pushes and hugs him again. He hugs her back; she is so close to him. It feels like nothing can come between them, nothing, not even the heaven themselves, it feels nothing can take her away from him, not even the illusion themselves.



But isn’t that an illusion in itself. But at that moment time had stopped. Barcelona came to a standstill. He could hear, her heart beat, the small breathe escaping her lips, her eyelids flutter, her hair brushed slightly by the slow moving breeze, her hand tightening the grip on his finger, and her body weight slowly falling on him. He could feel her, slowly mixing into his consciousness, slowly breaking the mould and then.... and then it goes in an instant. She looks up, He meets her gaze.


They break their embrace and start walking towards the hustle and bustle, the colours and contours, the sangria and tapas, the Gaudi and Guello of Barcelona.